


Just Deserts

by Soulsteel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Biting, Consent Respected, Consentacles, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Rough Sex, Secret Solenoid, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Stoplight System, Vaginal Fingering, mild robogore, they/them Soundwave, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulsteel/pseuds/Soulsteel
Summary: In which Soundwave gets exactly what they deserve for their millennia of unwavering loyalty and Megatron is very respectful of consent.(Secret Solenoid Gift 2020!)
Relationships: Megatron/Soundwave (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66
Collections: Secret Solenoid '20-'21





	Just Deserts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rileyriley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileyriley/gifts).



Soundwave pulled out of partial recharge with the start of their duty shift. Their cables were connected to the main computer, Laserbeak was docked close and safe on their chest, and they were nestled in the seat of their power, the _Nemesis’_ Primary Communication Hub.

All was well.

Broadcasts both inside and out flowed through them - conversations whispered and loud, petabytes of internet traffic, the endless chatter of satellites, the subtle whisper of radio waves, the endless song of Earth’s solar wind and magnetic field, all pulled through what used to be Trypticon’s processor and sensor suite (with some enhancements from Soundwave themself). As ever, 99.9% of it was worthless nonsense. It had been that way with Cybertron’s datanet in the Golden Age, and the humans here seemed to be giving that ancient cesspool of decadence and ignorance a run for their shanix (though Soundwave did quite enjoy the cat pictures).

Closer to home, threats and treachery were more likely. They focused tightly on the Nemesis itself and its crew. Their processor slid through the joor’s worth of recordings like layers of cyberspider silk, a million diaphanous threads making up the whole as they searched for threats to the Cause or trends worth noting.

_“-een the latest episode? Hermine was ROBBED!”_

_“-nd then I said, ‘I’ll bet you five shanix it won’t fit.’ And then she-”_

_“Stop listening to the static. Unicron’s voice is there if you just listen, I’m tellin-”_

_“-agging Commander Starscream, my wings are going to fall off at this ra-”_

_“-lways so hot in the Engine Room; they say overheating is the silent killer you kn-”_

_“-on’t know, Steve. I don’t know anymore. It’s complica-”_

_“-eakdown YES! Don’t stop, don’t ever stop! Give it to m-”_

Soundwave’s data cables tensed almost imperceptibly as they terminated playback for _that_ particular recording. Laserbeak’s small spark pulsed out curiosity and amusement at the ripple of his host’s field. Almost involuntarily, their servo rose to their chest to shush him. 

It had been a while. That was all.

They did not get time to settle before their proximity alarms went off. Someone was approaching the Communications Hub - an area most mechs, including 98.3% of the Vehicons, refused to enter. Soundwave honestly could not blame them - between its natural state and Soundwave’s modifications for efficiency, the chamber had become a network of frenetically changing screens, linked by pulsing black cables that glistened with coolant condensation. Not the most comfortable of environs for anyone whose name was not ‘Soundwave.’

Normally, they’d bridge an intruder fifteen degrees to the left of their position and 37.2 astrometers vertically - high enough to cause non-fatal damage as they dropped shrieking onto the hot, heavy plating of the port engine, but not high enough for Starscream to transform prior to impact. But they knew that heavy, confident gait. That mech had less than nothing to fear here.

They retracted their data cables and gave Laserbeak a last pat before encouraging him to undock and perch on their arm. Then they turned and waited expectantly for the just-unlocked door to open. It did so with a hiss and Megatron's form was revealed, gleaming silver and silhouetted by the purple hallway lights. He paused before entering to incline his helm at Soundwave. An acknowledgement of boundaries - uncharacteristic of Megatron, but welcome nonetheless. It was a good sign. Their relationship had ranged from lovers to friends to master-servant and back again multiple times over the last four million years, but this, at least, seemed to be a friendly visit.

“Lord Megatron.” They used Knock Out’s voice - the medic did an excellent balancing act between deferential and pert and was best for an amicable visit that might be more.

Megatron strode into the room, pure power and command in every movement. His very presence made the space feel smaller - a quality Soundwave had always admired. Megatron smiled, gladiatorial scarring and fangs adding a delightful savageness to his grin.

“Soundwave! My most loyal lieutenant, oldest companion, and ever-reliable servant.”

Soundwave nodded. These were all statements which had been true for so long they hardly needed acknowledgement, but here Megatron was, reiterating them anyway. He was building up to something. That was...promising. Their frame began to warm, though their posture remained at perfect attention.

Megatron paused before them, servos on his hip plating and optics somehow even more intense than usual. “Of late, I find your usual exemplary performance has acquired even more luster, especially against a setting of mediocrity and failure.” An appraising pause, his optics tracing Soundwave’s frame. “My appreciation of you grows daily.”

“Thank you.” A Vehicon’s voice this time, humbled and heartfelt. Soundwave’s suspicion turned to certainty, especially as Megatron began to pace a slow circle around them. They exvented silently, internal temperature rising, but remained at attention.

“I begin to think such loyalty deserves...a _reward_.” Megatron’s engine purred as he said it, adding a delightful vibrato to the last word. He leaned in and let his field spill over his TIC, hot and crackling and loaded with lascivious intent. Soundwave let their cooling fans activate by way of both acknowledgement and consent, and displayed a smiling emoticon on their visor.

After all, it had been a LONG time.

Laserbeak pulsed the equivalent of an optic-roll along their bond and flitted off into the Communication Hub’s darkness, presumably to deactivate his audials and watch those human drama shows he was so fond of. Arm now freed, Soundwave reached for Megatron, only to be met halfway by a crushing, possessive hug. Their chestplates slammed together hard enough to dent Soundwave’s thinner armor, and Megatron’s mouth latched onto their neck cables just below their visor. Fangs pierced, energon flowed, and Megatron’s clever tongue gathered it all, sliding over the wounds with force enough to bruise the protoform beneath. Breakdown’s voice moaned, “Ohhhhhh yes!”

Like the Pits of Kaon. JUST like back at the Pits. Soundwave’s core temperature shot up so fast that warnings littered their HUD. Megatron’s claws traced the triangular planes of Soundwave’s back before cupping under their aft and lifting them effortlessly, like they weighed nothing. They barely had time to remotely deactivate the console behind them before Megatron threw them onto it and slotted himself between their thighs, forcing them wide as Megatron pressed their burning panels together. They could feel his codpiece shifting in preparation of transforming back, and it took all their iron-willed control to keep their own in place. They flashed their visor yellow.

Megatron actually paused - _he_ _remembered_! - and reluctantly pulled away from the smooth shoulder armor he’d been a few astrocentimeters from sinking his fangs into. His engine was roaring so loudly it sounded like an enraged pneumapuma snarling in the night, but still that one flash of color held him.

Soundwave curled spindly digits around Megatron’s wrist, just below his fusion cannon. Dreadwing’s cultured Vosian accent rumbled out, “It has been some time since I had the pleasure of serving you, my master,” followed by Knock Out’s warm voice chuckling and saying, “Take it slow, big boy, you don’t want to break anything.”

Megatron slid his servos down to the narrow span of Soundwave’s waist, his opposable digits tracing along Soundwave's sensitive biolights. They shivered. “Of course, my loyal one. After all, this is a reward for _you_.”

And then he dropped to his knees, plating smashing down thunderously on the metal decking, and a hot glossa pressed unrelentingly against their modesty paneling. Soundwave opened for him in under a klik, and Megatron’s scarred lipplates immediately closed around their anterior node. Their fans gave a sharp whine, and Megatron chuckled deep in his intake, pulling away slightly.

“Enjoying yourself?” Soundwave flashed their visor green, then added three smiley faces for emphasis.

“Excellent!” Megatron slapped their hip and immediately dove back in. Soundwave swore Megatron’s glossa had gotten longer and thicker since they’d last felt it on their valve - it seemed to cover everything from exhaust port to anterior node with each rapid swipe through their folds. Their fans whined again, and Megatron dug his claws into their thighs and hefted Soundwave’s legs over his shoulders. They were cradled perfectly in the nest of curving spikes on his pauldrons, their pedes pressing against Megatron’s broad back, and their valve was at just the right spot to be utterly devoured by the Lord of the Decepticons.

And devoured it was, with licks and sucks and grazing fangs. Soundwave briefly shuttered their optics behind their visor and locked their servos on the bases of the two screens above their head. Their arms in this frame were fantastic for defense and data entry and, sadly, little else. The extra length and lack of wrist joint made fine manipulations difficult or impossible unless what they wanted to touch was at a very specific distance or angle from them.

Luckily, they had two more limbs with no such issues.

They released their data cables to twine around Megatron’s thick torso, sliding along his backstruts with a definite purpose. Dexterous, flexible along their entire length, and exquisitely sensitive at the ends, their cables were actually their primary manipulators. The tendrils at the tips slipped greedily under the shining, curving plates of their liege’s armor, touching and teasing at the wires and cables that lay beneath, hunting down sensor nodes to alternately massage and send slight shocks through them. Megatron grunted appreciatively, but remained wholly focused in his work - work that was making Soundwave manually override their vocalizer multiple times.

Megatron’s thick, clawed digits joined that agile glossa, stretching and flexing within the painfully tight contours of Soundwave’s valve. Their neglected calipers were reluctant to open and stretch, but the dull ache almost made it better, helping to temper the raw pleasure coming from their anterior node. The pain was giving them an anchor against an early overload - an anchor they sorely needed after Megatron pushed a third digit into their valve and the first uncontrolled burst of static escaped their vocalizer.

Megatron moaned against their valve at that first sign of lost control, the vibrations of it nearly hiding the hiss-click of a spike pressurizing and a valve panel pulling back. Soundwave’s data cables immediately slithered lower, homing in on Megatron’s wet valve and stiff spike as if magnetically attracted to them...only for Megatron to slide his digits out of their valve and intercept the one headed for his spike, causing both cables to freeze.

“I can think of a far better use for my spike,” he purred, rising. His massive frame was all barely controlled power and radiant heat as he leaned over Soundwave, folding them nearly in half in the process. He paused with his faceplates mere astrocentimeters from Soundwave’s visor, one browplate lifting.

Soundwave’s vents stalled - the power was in their servos. This would not continue without their explicit permission. Their fuel pump raced, to hold the full might of the Slagmaker back with a single gesture.

This, then, was truly their reward.

After a moment of almost unbearable tension, Soundwave flashed their visor the brightest green it was capable of displaying.

Megatron roared like a wild Predacon and slammed his spike hilt-deep in a single violent thrust, sending Soundwave smashing helmfirst into the best overload they’d had since the Pits of Kaon. Their calipers spasmed around Megatron’s spike like a hungry cybersnake and glass and metal crunched under their digits as the screens they were gripping shattered. Their data cables went limp momentarily, clattering against the decking.

Megatron groaned, then laughed. “Come, Soundwave, show me the same stamina I so admired in the Pits!” He pulled out slowly, making sure Soundwave’s tight, oversensitive valve felt every ridge and contour of his spike in the process, then circled the thick, blunt head over sopping violet folds and the searing, swollen star that was their anterior node.

Soundwave let out a soft static hiss as an involuntary squirm rippled up their frame. They did NOT appreciate being teased. They pulled their digits from the wrecked screens, long arms swinging down to let them get a firm grip on the sharp edges of Megatron’s pelvic framing. Then, greatly daring, they tugged hard on his hips and played a recording near-guaranteed to get them slammed through the console.

“Get ON with it already!” Starscream’s voice snapped, and so did Megatron’s self control.

He snarled, bit down on Soundwave’s shoulder with enough force to pierce completely through the armor there, and slammed his spike back in hard enough to force a loud burst of static out of their vocalizer. One servo reached down to grip Soundwave’s spike punishingly, deliciously tight. The other wrapped around Soundwave’s waist, nearly encircling it, hot pressure on their biolights.

And then Megatron began fragging them in earnest. The pace was brutal, violent, _perfect_. Just like the Cause. Just like Megatron himself. THIS was that they wanted if they were to be rewarded!

Soundwave threw their helm back, and Megatron took the invitation, shifting his mouth from their ruined shoulder to the already-damaged cables and fuel lines that still glistened temptingly cyan. That long glossa laved over the line of Soundwave’s neck before his mouth descended to suck and bite. Megatron’s fangs sank in in perfect time to his thrusts, penetrating them twice over, and Soundwave couldn’t override their vocalizer before a moan escaped - rough, raspy from disuse, but not a recording. Their own voice.

They felt Megatron’s smile against the mangled, bleeding lines in their neck.

Soundwave’s data cables suddenly snaked up from the floor to wrap firmly around Megatron’s thighs, yanking them farther apart and interrupting Megatron’s hard, fast rhythm. His irritated growl was cut off midway by a sharp invent as they used one cable to part the slate-grey petals of his valve and the other to press inside, squirming and slithering. One set of tendrils probed and pressed, seeking out individual nodes to give pinpoint stimulation to as the cable thrust in and out. The other set devoted their full attention to Megatron’s anterior node, each one like a tiny servo stroking and rubbing.

Megatron let out a breathy laugh against Soundwave’s neck. “If you have this much free processor capacity, I may be doing something wrong.”

Soundwave popped up a particularly smug-looking smiley emoticon on their visor. “Soundwave: superior,” they said, then startled a little to realize they’d _spoken_. Actual words and everything.

Their cables briefly stilled in shock, and their visor blanked. Megatron lifted his helm from Soundwave’s neck, looking more amused than surprised at his Third’s sudden loquaciousness. “A rare statement. Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

The servo on Soundwave’s waist stroked them firmly, bringing them back to themself. They supposed that if they were to have broken a four-million-year-long vow of silence, there was no better mech to have given their words to. They nodded once, then immediately redoubled their cables’ efforts.

Megatron’s engine revved, jet turbines spinning up with a shriek as his plating fanned to expel the sudden heat. He snarled before biting deeply into Soundwave once again, this time at the edge of their visor, wrenching a burst of static from the other mech. He slammed deep into Soundwave, thick spike smashing into their ceiling node so hard their optics whited out, and started a jackhammer-like pace. His servo pumped in time on Soundwave’s long, slender spike, and they could feel themself start to come undone a second time.

There was no point in fighting it; Megatron was an irresistible force of nature. All they could do was try to bring him with them. Desperately, they slid their second cable into Megatron’s valve, twisting them together into a thick helix and pumping frantically. Megatron howled and his sparking inner nodes felt like pure ecstasy on their data cables. Razor-sharp dentae sank in, and Soundwave’s visor shattered in a thousand shards of impossible color as they slipped over the edge and let go.

***

Soundwave awakened for the second time that evening, pulling out of a hard reboot this time. Their visor was fully useless, shattered over three quarters of its surface and dripping sparks and energon down the sharp lines of their helm. They pulled up their internal HUD to assess the damage. Immediately, an array of color-coded warnings splayed across their visual field.

The primary motivator in their left shoulder was broken and that limb was no longer mobile under its own power. They were losing energon from damaged cables on their neck. Laserbeak’s connector port on their chestplate was too warped for the drone to dock. There were moderately deep clawmarks on their abdomen. The joint in their right hip was fully dislocated. Significant cosmetic damage spread over 37.8% of their frame’s surface. And finally, their gestation tank was very full of transfluid.

Back in the Pits, they would have called this “a very good night.”

As they turned their helm, they heard a deep chuckle. “Are you adequately rewarded, my Third?”

Soundwave nodded, even as they felt Megatron’s large, strong servos slide under them and lift, pulling them against his broad chestplate to be carried to the medbay.

“Soundwave: satisfied. Megatron: superior.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance if I mucked up any of Soundwave's pronouns - I usually headcanon Soundwave as he/him, but noticed my giftee seemed to prefer the (totally valid) they/them Sounders. Mea culpa if I fragged up!
> 
> Also, yes, Laserbeak is a fan of K-dramas.


End file.
